


Aconitum

by KillTheDirector



Series: Crimson [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bride Hunting, F/M, I can't write knotting, Mating Run, SO, The Red Festival, fic of a fic, no knotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillTheDirector/pseuds/KillTheDirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She weaves wolfsbane in her hair to throw off the scent, but the underlying smell of <i>mate</i> and <i>mine</i> is still there.</p><p>Based off of hoars' fic <i>Festival of Red</i> and basically me just wanting to see more Pyida interaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aconitum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hoars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoars/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Festival of Red](https://archiveofourown.org/works/557220) by [hoars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoars/pseuds/hoars). 



> I'm...I'm not even sorry for this one.

Lydia is herded with the other Chosen outside of the preserve's gate and tunes out when they all receive the _you were all picked because you're special and destined for greatness_ speech, only coming back from the inside of her head the moment the gates open. The Chosen fly off into different directions, the red of their outfits like dancing flames in the early morning sun as they flit from between trees and disappear in the forest. 

Lydia notices Stiles and Alison bound off to one direction, gaze flickering up to note the daisy crown perched on Stiles' head; she smirks slightly, commending the hyperactive boy on his diversion tactics, but knowing that the light smell of daisies wasn't going to fend off any wolf who may catch on his smell. Lydia sees Jackson stomp to another direction, their eyes catching for a breath of a moment before he ducks his head down in acknowledge of her presence, his red scarf trailing behind him like a silk cape; she sighs softly and begins to move, already knowing the direction in which she has to go. 

It's a far walk to reach the very edges of the preserve, tucked away in a small alcove of evergreens and next to a bubbling stream. Lydia stretches her arms over her head, the red cloak's hood falling off her head to around her shoulders. She steps into the alcove, nose twitching at the smell of pine and the light perfume of the very reason she sought this place out. Moving to sit on her knees, Lydia smoothes her skirt out and pulls soft leather gardening gloves out of the pocket of her cloak; tugging them on and glancing up at the sun to note the time ( _11:30, nearly time to let the dogs out_ ), Lydia begins to pluck the wolfsbane from the ground, making sure to leave a bit of stem. 

Gathering enough, Lydia brushes her fingers through her hair, mouth pursing at the slight knots decorated through out the strawberry strands. She lifts one of the plucked flowers and begins to weave them through her hair, making sure to leave the blossoms face out in order for them to put out the most smell. Lydia hums softly as she works, making sure to use only a bare minimum of the flowers since she doesn't really want to kill her future mate; the flowers are made sure to only allow the _best_ wolf to find her, to make sure that they aren't stupid enough to forgo her scent because there's something possibly lethal about it. 

Standing after she's done, Lydia pulls the hood back over her head, moving the braid to rest over her shoulder. She pats away any dirt that may have dusted over her skirt and shakes off a few leaves that stick to her boots before moving away from the thicket. She makes a face at having to walk through the stream, but again it's a test because she only deserves _the best_. Glancing up at the sun, Lydia allows a tiny smile to quirk the corners of her lips; she can hear the faint echoing of howls in the distance, and her heart begins to thud ever so slightly in her chest. 

Let the games begin. 

()()

Peter makes a face at the over eagerness of the wolves gathered at the preserve gate. He stands in boredom, not transformed as most are and makes a dry comment to Derek about pups pissing themselves in excitement. He notes the slight quirk to his nephew's mouth, but also the tense line of his shoulders; Peter ignores his sister's speech and her overly obvious hint to her children. The gathered wolves laugh, jostling each other with elbows and letting out playful growls that soon turn predatory when the gates open. 

The other wolves dart off, leaving the three Hales merely walking into the preserve. Laura lets out a long sigh and transforms, her wolf running off into a random direction. Peter feels slightly bad for his niece, but notes with interest at the way Derek perks in recognition and quickly takes off fully transformed.

_Another year._ Peter thinks, mouth turned down in not-quite bitterness and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. He can hear howls and the frantic heart beats of the Chosen as they run from their mates; the sounds make his skin itch, and feel like a sour old man when his nose can't pick up on any scent that seems remotely interesting. There's a puff of wind, and when Peter inhales just to see, his eyes go wide. 

There's the smell of freshly picked wolfsbane, but something underneath. He feels his mouth water, and breathes in deeper just to catch the smell again. Eyes fluttering closed, Peter feels his canines elongate and his nails sharpen to claws; the smell of wolfsbane is nearly over powering, but underneath there is the smell of _mate_ and _mine_. Opening his eyes, Peter feels himself transform, dropping to all fours in order to speed off towards the smell. A growl rumbles in his throat, and somewhere in the back of his human mind, he's reeling. 

()()

Lydia walks for what seems like an hour. She hops over rocks and fallen trees, wondering about her fellow Chosen and also feeling concern for Stiles and Alison. No doubt the Enforcer girl was already mated to Scott, the love filled glances and secret meetings before the Festival nearly made Lydia gag; she supposed it was sweet, but now the thought only makes something that tastes like jealousy and bitterness fill her mouth. 

Jackson was a Chosen, and that had been annoying when she found out. Lydia knew already that he was a submissive beta, but had hoped he would have at least dipped under the radar until the Festival was over. She wasn't upset because he had been 'taken away from her' like her idiot of a mother believed; no, Lydia was upset because it would take _years_ for her to bend someone else to her will. How annoying that she would have to start from scratch; but something Stiles had said earlier had made Lydia think. 

_“It’s highly unlikely anyone but a potential alpha will Chase you with the vibes you put off.”_ Of course! Although she was a human, Lydia knew she was a _queen_ , and after she had left the two, Lydia began to think of challenges that would lure her potential alpha to her. 

She stopped, the hair raising on the back of her neck that indicated she wasn't alone anymore. Lydia felt her heart pounding slightly quicker in her chest, and knew that if it was a wolf, they would hear it too. Turning on her heels and scanning the surrounding forest, Lydia couldn't see anything, but that didn't mean that she was alone. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Lydia dug a toe into the ground, muscles posed for flight. She heard a twig snap and took off. 

()()

Peter followed the smell of his mate to the edges of the preserve, claws digging into the ground at the thought of the wonderful chase he would have once he found her. His run skidded to a stop then to a slow pace, eyes catching on the brilliant red amongst the trees. The smell of wolfsbane and his mate perfumed the air, and it took Peter all he had not to growl in pleasure. He saw the girl stop, could hear her heart beat pick up with the knowledge that she wasn't alone; he wanted to howl when she turned, eyes as sharp as a predator as they scanned the area. 

Peter noted the tensing of her muscles, the shifting of her feet as she prepared to run. He stalked forward, gaze intent on her face before flinching when the sharp crack of a twig cut through the air. She took off like a gunshot, red hood falling away from her head and strawberry coloured braid woven with small purple flowers whipped behind her. Peter surged forward, not caring now that he was out in the open when he should still be stalking like a good predator would. 

Her heart beat was like drums in his head, and the smell of her perspiration mixed with the nauseating smell of the wolfsbane causing his mind to go slightly hazy. She jumped over a fallen tree like a deer, landing gracefully and not turning to see if she was still being pursued. Peter would have grinned if he had been in a form that would allow it, and followed, paws hitting the forest floor soundlessly. 

He could tell she was growing tired, but her stubbornness was apparent in the way she surged on. He noted that her footsteps were growing heavier, and the sound of her laboured breathing only made him wish that he could mate with her faster. Their distance was growing smaller, and finally Peter was able to pounce, his wolf body pinning her small human one easily. 

Her chest was heaving beneath him, and when she looked up, there wasn't any fear reflected in her hazel eyes. Peter transformed back into his human body, the smirk that had been suppressed in his wolf form fully apparent now. Her braid had begun to grow loose, strands of fiery hair sticking to her slightly moist skin; he hummed lowly, the sound traveling from deep in his throat, and he noted the interest crossing over her face. 

His mate tilted her head, intelligence flashing over the hazel depths; she squirmed slightly under him, full lips parting to release a soft noise that had his teeth growing sharper in his mouth. Her lips quirked, and she rolled her hips upwards, lids lowering to half-mast. 

()()

He isn't what she's expecting, and somehow that makes it better. Lydia raises a brow and flicks a gaze down to her pinned arms, and rolls her hips up again; the wolf growls again, but moves so that he can tug her onto his lap, elevating her to a position she's much more worthy of. She settles comfortably, hands moving up to remove the red cloak, letting it fall to the ground with a silent hiss. His teeth are on her bared throat in an instant, hands tipped with claws digging into her hips and causing little explosions of pain to race up her spine. 

Lydia finds that she doesn't mind, and lifts a hand to pet the back of his head as if he's a dog who has pleased her. She moves so that she can begin unbuttoning her blouse, not wanting the material to get shredded in his fervor; the wolf pulls back, mouth shiny with spit and slightly flushed; Lydia meets his eyes, locking gazes as she undresses. His eyes have gone a nearly electric blue, glowing slightly in the afternoon light; she smirks prettily, rocking her hips against his, skirt bunching with the movement. The wolf growls again, gaze dropping to her lace covered breasts, mouth soon following along with clawed hands scraping unforgivingly down her sides. 

His hands move so that they can slip under her skirt, popping the buttons holding the waist together; Lydia hisses, fingers clawing at his back. "Be careful." She feels his grin against her skin, and so she digs her nails deeper. His hands move so that they're under her panties and cupping her ass, squeezing the skin until moving to the heat between her thighs. Lydia lets out a soft groan, tone encouraging when one of his claws brush feather-light against her clit. 

Stars explode in front of her eyes, causing Lydia to hiss and growl lowly, ears catching on the faintest of chuckles coming from the wolf when he pulls his hand away. "Don't stop." She demands, though less forceful and more breathless. The wolf pulls back, mouth curled at the edges and faint lines creasing the corners of his eyes; Lydia wets her lips, brows scrunching together. "You look familiar..." She says, though it becomes mangled when he moves down to bite and suck at a hard nipple still covered by lace. Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, Lydia slides her hips against the bulge apparent beneath her. 

Her hands move to unhook her bra, not wanting the clothing to get torn just because the wolf couldn't bother with removing it himself. He makes a happy sounding noise in the back of his throat, hands that had been caressing the insides of her thighs moving beneath her panties in order to award her with a few strokes to her cunt. Lydia lets out a groan, tipping her head back and eyes sliding closed. The mouth wrapped around one her nipples grins, the fingers probing deeper and stroking ruthlessly. 

"Stand up." The wolf demands, voice a gravely mess and causing Lydia to smirk despite the quaking in her limbs. She slides off of his lap, standing as gracefully as she could and watching with an aroused flush as he cleans off his fingers; the wolf moves so that he's on his knees in front of her, hands moving up to tug down her skirt, mouth planting kisses and bites against her stomach. Lydia lets her hands rest on top of his head, fingers petting through his hair; he strips her till she's standing in nothing but her stockings and boots, pulling back from the hickey he had left on her hip and grinning lazily. 

Blue eyes flicker up to meet her own gaze, and Lydia tilts her head up primly, controlling her shivering to a minimum. He licks a trail from the mark on her hip, over her stomach and stands until he towers over her. Lydia looks up from under her lashes, raising a brow before letting out a soft snicker when she's pressed against a tree. The bark scratches her bare back when she's lifted up, wrapping her legs around the wolf's waist in order not to fall. 

He cages her in, teeth biting trails down her neck, over her breasts and back up again before his mouth hovers over hers. Lydia blinks, noting the small conflicted frown tilting down the wolf's mouth as he decides whether or not to kiss her; she answers for him, snapping forward and crushing their lips together, biting down on his lip and tugging slightly. He groans, but it's low enough to be considered a growl and thrusts his tongue into her mouth. 

Lydia squirms against him, and then lets out a sharp cry when he moves his hips and sinks himself into her. His arms wrap around her body, and she realizes that she's quaking; he swipes his tongue over her lip, soothing despite his rough hands clawing at her hips. Lydia whines, moving back to sink her own teeth in his neck, feeling his hands tighten; he thrusts into her again, shoving her body against the tree and rutting. With the angle they're in, every movement of his cock causes it to scrape relentlessly against her clit; Lydia's teeth sink deeper as she attempts to hold in her moans. The wolf groans out a rough " _I want to hear you._ " which prompts her to detach her teeth from his flesh and moan loudly in his ear. 

She lets out a loud cry when her orgasm shoots up her spine; Lydia gasps and tries to push harder against the wolf's cock, walls clenching and toes curling with pleasure. He lets out his own moan, pumping harder until Lydia feels him spill inside of her. 

Briefly Lydia thinks about getting pregnant, and how that would screw up everything she has planned. When the wolf lowers her to the forest floor, breath fanning over her sweat moist body and plants lazy kisses over her sternum to her navel, she mentions this. He pauses, hovering over the mark on her hip and meets her gaze. Lydia huffs and moves so that she can lean back on her hands. "I'm going to win the Field's Medal." She states this as fact, and moves a hand to lace through his hair when he moves up her body. "A kid would screw up everything." 

"We have time." He noses at her neck, nearly loving but scrapes his teeth over the bruises forming there in promise for something much rougher later on. "I'm not asking you to give everything up and become a doting housewife. That would be _boring_." His mouth skims over her pulse point before he plucks one of the remaining wolfsbane flowers from her hair. Pulling back, the wolf twirls the ruined flower between his fingers, raising a brow and letting out a pleased hum. "You're anything but boring, pet." 

Lydia shakes her hair loose from the destroyed braid and leans forward to pluck the flower from his hands. She tucks it behind her ear and gives him a considering look. "I don't know your name." 

He twirls a strand of her hair around one finger and tugs her close, pulling her onto his lap which now is far more intimate than before. "Peter Hale." He says lightly, stroking a line down her back and over the claw marks he had made before. "Yours?" 

Lydia raises a brow. "Lydia Martin." Pursing her lips, she prods Peter on the chest. "Hale? Like the alpha...that's why you look so familiar. You're her brother." Peter hums and rolls a shoulder in a shrug. 

"The very same. Does it bother you?" Lydia's mouth curls into a large, smug grin. She moves forward, shuddering at the over sensitivity of her bottom half when it comes in contact with Peter's half-hard cock; her teeth catch on his ear lobe before she pets the side of his face. 

"Not at all...actually, I'm sure we could help each other out." 

Stiles' words echoed again in her head when she and Peter began to move against one another. She was was only worthy of the best, and even if Peter seemed to have some flaws, he held the potential to be perfect. 

()()

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Aconitum by KillTheDirector [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/577022) by [Rhea314 (Rhea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Rhea314)
  * [[Cover Art] Aconitum (written by KillTheDirector, read by Rhea314)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/622357) by [fire_juggler_arts (fire_juggler)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_juggler/pseuds/fire_juggler_arts)




End file.
